Gays Too Precious to Fight in War

11 Responses to “Gays Too Precious to Fight in War”

1. Clay on September 25th, 2007 12:42 pm [#]

   No wonder your opinions on same sex rights are wonky…you’ve been getting your information from comedy skits.

   You do realize that the Onion is a satirical site, right?

2. Smarter than Ezra on September 25th, 2007 12:52 pm [#]

   This post is totally worthy of thepolitic.

3. Smarter than Ezra on September 25th, 2007 3:12 pm [#]

   I wrote you another Story, George. Hope you like it.

   Once upon a time there was a miserable little boy named George with a big little secret. Unlike other little boys, George didn’t like to play nice, because he was afraid that someone might get to know him well enough to discover his big little secret. In fact, as he grew, his big secret became even smaller, and George became even more miserable to be around.

   In the playground after school one day, George was walking past a bunch of little girls who started to laugh and point. “They know,” he thought to himself, and covering his big little secret with his left hand, he started to throw rocks at the little girls with his right hand. The little girls ran away and vowed then and there that they would never kiss the miserable little boy with the big little secret.

   Thinking he was very clever, George promptly filled his pockets with rocks and smiled. “Hey, this’ll keep my big little secret safe,” he said, “and if anyone dares say anything, I will throw more rocks at them.” He promptly went straight home to tell his mother he wanted pants with bigger front pockets. Feeling pity for her miserable little son with the big little secret, she agreed.

   From then on George hid his big little secret behind a pocket full of rocks. As the seasons passed, the rest of his body grew, and with every season, both his front pockets and the rocks he carried got bigger. But the bigger he got, the smaller his big little secret seemed, and this made George even more miserable to be around.

   He was so miserable, so mean, and so unmanageable, that his mother took him to a Freudian Doctor. George didn’t want to go, but his mother told him that if he didn’t see the doctor, that he would have to go to bed without supper for the rest of the month.

   “Those are some mighty big pockets, and even bigger rocks,” said the Freudian Doctor, “care to talk about them?”

   “Why would a reasonable person talk about his rocks?” retorted George, “besides, if you don’t leave me alone, I will throw them at you!”

   “Indeed,” replied the Freudian Doctor, “but if you throw all your rocks, then what of your big little secret? Aren’t you afraid of being exposed? Is that why you don’t talk to people in a civilized manner?”

   “Exposed?” shrieked George, and he started to jump up and down on the sofa. He jumped up and down so hard, and with such indignation, that the rocks in his pockets hurt his big little secret. George fell to the floor, moaned, and passed out.

   The following week, George was walking home from school when he noticed a very tall handsome postman with an extremely large package (he certainly didn’t need rocks in his pockets to hide anything small). Everyone in town knew that the postman lived quite happily with his “best friend” the butcher. The butcher was famous for knowing a lot about meat and specialized in sausages.

   The kind postman had left an envelope in the mailbox in front of his house. Feeling self conscious of his big little secret, George waited until the postman left with his large package, and then quickly ran up the front porch, careful not to knock his rocks around.

   George found an envelope addressed to his mother from the Freudian Doctor in the mailbox. Checking to see if anyone was looking, George hid the letter in his school bag and quickly went to his room to read it.

   Dear Mrs. Freeman,

   My professional opinion is that your son is very disturbed. As you know, he tries to hide his big little secret behind a pocket full of rocks. In the past, he learned that throwing rocks was a good way to keep people away, but now he is very angry that no one talks to him. He passed out during our session, which gave me a chance to examine his big little problem, and it is indeed VERY little.

   In my experience, people with this big little problem have a very hard time seeing past it. In fact, when it is that small, there is nothing to see past, and it makes the subject quite anal retentive. If they cannot see forward, then the only way to look is back; and George’s case is the smallest I have ever seen!

   He will probably lash out at the world, and always walk around with a pocket full of rocks. George will learn to hate, and will probably turn to books. He will project his hatred onto those he finds the most threatening, those who are happy, and those who do not have the same big little problem. I encourage you to find him good books to read, since human interaction will never come easy to him.

   I am sorry there is nothing I can do for your son,

   Dr. Freudian Doctor.

   George was so angry that he tore the letter up into little pieces. He hated the postman with the large package for bringing this letter to his house. He hated the doctor for using science to explain his behaviour. But strangely, he hated the butcher most of all, because he was happy and knew a lot about sausages.

   “I will show that stupid Freudian Doctor,” he cried, “I will read books, and I will get my revenge on the world!” Wi that, George stomped out of his room, out the front door, and into the library where he didn’t come out for years.

   Life passed George by, until he discovered the internet. “No one can see my big little problem on the internet,” he thought to himself. This could be the answer I have been searching for all these years!

   But sadly, George didn’t learn the social skills he needed as a little boy, and continued to throw cyber-rocks at people.

   And who, do you ask, did George throw the cyber-rocks at? Why, at people who reminded him of the handsome postman with the big package, and the butcher, of course!

   The end.

4. George Freeman on September 25th, 2007 4:25 pm [#]

   Clay: Satire? Really? Boy, here I thought this was a serious interview.

   STE: Quite a story. Any suggestions on enhancing one’s endowment? … Do those pills actually work? … All those books and I still can’t figure it out.

   Evidently humour cuts like a knife; this one got under your skin. Could it be your “fragile psyches”?

   Luv U 4 ever,

   George

5. Smarter than Ezra on September 25th, 2007 4:32 pm [#]

   Please keep your big little problem away from my fragile phyche. If girls don’t want it, then neither do the gays.

6. Smarter than Ezra on September 25th, 2007 4:35 pm [#]

   And just in case you are wondering, I am the butcher, and my husband is the postman. :o)

7. Smarter than Ezra on September 25th, 2007 4:41 pm [#]

   Best come back ever: You said I have a small penis. NO, YOU HAVE A SMALL PENIS!

8. George Freeman on September 25th, 2007 4:47 pm [#]

   You’re willing to write an extenuated account of my “big little problem,” yet provide no assistance? What’s with that?

   I thought your claim to fame was that you were considerate of others, tolerant of their every whim and fancy. And I’ve even been very nice to you, for the most part.

9. George Freeman on September 25th, 2007 4:49 pm [#]

   I don’t quite follow what you’re getting at in 7.

10. Anonymous on September 25th, 2007 5:11 pm [#]

    “I don’t quite follow what you’re getting at in 7.”

    # 7 refers to this:

    “STE: Quite a story. Any suggestions on enhancing one’s endowment? … Do those pills actually work? … All those books and I still can’t figure it out.”

    “I thought your claim to fame was that you were considerate of others, tolerant of their every whim and fancy. And I’ve even been very nice to you, for the most part.”

    Nope, I never claimed that. When I see something I think is wrong, I point it out, or make fun of it, just like you. As for being nice, you aren’t, George, so cut the crap. If being nice is calling me a princess, flamer, troll, idiot (do I need to provide an extensive list?) then you are right, you are VERY nice, for the most part.

11. Greg Farries on September 25th, 2007 5:16 pm [#]

    This thread has been closed.

    If the quality level of comments don’t improve around here, I’m going to force all comments in a moderation queue.